


nothing feels better than the find

by perfect_little_fool



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body descriptions, Climber!Derek, Eventual Smut, Fit!Stiles, M/M, adoration, rock climbing au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_little_fool/pseuds/perfect_little_fool
Summary: “Of course not. Do what I did and jump up and mimic the fall. I promise, you won’t hurt yourself.” He gives a small smile as he finishes laughing, Stiles’ stomach clenching again.“Right,” the younger boy murmurs, gulping down some air. The idea of jumping and falling on his ass in front of Derek seemed like the most humiliating thing and he suddenly didn’t want to do this anymore.(or, the Rock Climbing AU you didn't ask for but I wanted)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this has been on my computer for literally like two years. It was supposed to be longer and finished but since it's been a draft for forever I'm just gonna post it and see if anyone likes it????? Lol, I'd love to finish it I just suck at finishing things!!!! 
> 
> (Also, trigger warning for descriptions of bodies. Let me know if any other trigger warnings apply.)

“…the _fuck_ is this place called?”

Stiles glances down at the screen of his phone again, where Google Maps was eagerly trying to get him to his destination on time and in one piece, but instead feels a high urge to chuck it out of his Jeep’s open window. Scott had, of course, omitted the name of this place when giving his friend the address so Stiles was left to amble around the complex blindly, attempting to seek out a rock climbing place that was nameless to him.

“ _The destination will be on your right_ ,” the automated woman’s voice draws out blankly for about the thousandth time.

“Yes, thank you, you disembodied piece of shit,” he mutters out in one breath, groaning to no one when he looks to his right and just sees rows of cars in the parking lot. He drives by the Radioshack again—meaning he’d fully circled the plaza about six times now. “Son of a bitch…”

Finally, when his frustration was at its peak, he throws his steering wheel to the right and all but jerks his beloved car into one of the parking spots before flailing out of the driver’s side. “God damnit!” he shouts at no one, pushing the sleeves of his red flannel higher up his arms. He looks around once he was on solid ground while scrubbing his hands through his hair in the highest level of irritation. 

And, by what he would label as sheer luck, his panicked gaze lands on big, bright red letters that slanted up to the right as if they were ascending: _Trek_. He frowns with not only his mouth, but his eyebrows as well. That sounded like a rock climbing center if he’d ever heard of one so he finds himself walking toward the tinted-glass doors before he can stop himself. 

_Trek – Indoor Rock Climbing Activities and Classes_

Once those white words printed on the doors confirmed all that Stiles needed to know, he wraps his hand around the horizontal bar and pushes it open with a little more force than was necessary. What can he say? He was still beyond aggravated that Scott had not only made it impossible for Stiles to find this place so that it made him late beyond late—but that he was dragged along on this semi-date for his best friend and Allison. The only reason he was there was because the both of them just felt too much pity for the lonely boy, seeing as he had struck out with Lydia ten too many times and was about to pull his hair out from the sexual frustration that had built up over the past nineteen years. 

Whatever. If they wanted him to hang out with them on what was supposed to be a just-the-two-of-them outing, he would do it. And no, not because he was tired of sitting at home playing video games and jerking off. Because he wanted to humor them a little bit. Of course. Yeah.

The lobby of the facility was clean with tan walls and beige tiled flooring. Stiles immediately walks over to the front desk and leans over the top of it with his elbows flat to the surface, smiling at the girl who sat there scrolling through the computer. There were a few beats of silence before she looks up, giving him a sardonic smile as she twines her fingers together. “May I help you?” she asks while quirking an eyebrow, her pin-straight brown hair swaying when she cocks her head to the side. 

Stiles clears his throat, feeling her stare down to the core. “Uh, yeah,” he nods, wringing his hands, suddenly feeling out of place and nervous purely because of this attractive girl giving him a glare for the history books. “I’m supposed to meet two of my buddies for, uh, for rock climbing.”

“What a surprise,” she almost murmurs to herself before producing an iPad, Stiles grasping and immediately almost dropping it with the grace of a toddler. She just flicks up another eyebrow. “Just fill out our waiver so you understand that if you get injured or hurt in anyway, you did this voluntarily and it is not the Center’s fault.” Her eyes take in his gangly figure, almost as if she were immediately pinning him as a customer that would fall and break an arm. “If you don’t, we can’t let you climb.”

He swallows. “So, if I get hurt…”

“We don’t have anything to do with it.”

He coughs out a breath, not knowing why his heart was clamoring so. “Yes…good.”

Stiles types out all of his information quickly, such as his emergency contact and address in case they needed to bill him for damaging property (insert roll of eyes from Stiles here), before inputting his electronic signature to agree to their terms.

“All done,” he forces out as he hands the iPad back over. The girl takes it stoically before drawing up the fees for renting the shoes and harness and the four-hour pass, her manicured fingers swiping his card expertly and quickly, which he imagined meant she was very good at using a credit card. Stiles shakes his head—he’s really got to stop pinning people with labels before ever having a normal discussion with them.

She nods to a door to the right of the front desk as she grabs the office phone at her elbow. “Go on in there and put whatever you don’t want to take climbing with you in one of the lockers,” she instructs while dialing a number into the keypad. “And remove those ratty old shoes as well.”

His brows scrunch before he lowers his head to look at the clothing she had aforementioned—what was ratty about his old black Adidas? Not that they hadn’t been around awhile but Stiles resented her tone.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to tell her off, she’s speaking into the phone. “We got that third straggler that was supposed to be here with those other two that came in about a half hour ago—they almost done with the introduction? Cool. Could you get Derek off the damn wall and tell him to meet me in the lobby? Even better. Thanks, Isaac.”

She hangs up before turning to meet Stiles with her cool gaze, those expressive eyebrows making themselves known again as they shoot up. “You didn’t move.”

“Oh, sorry,” he mutters absentmindedly, almost tripping over his own foot as he turns around sharply, falling into the door she gestured at and into the locker room. He shakes his whole body out to rid himself of the nerves bubbling out of nowhere before removing his phone, wallet, and keys from his pocket and distributing them in the nearest locker. He forks over the twenty-five cents to lock it up then toes off his shoes to kick into the cubbies at his feet. Once he had done all that the girl at the desk said to do he heads back into the lobby, stopping short too soon so that the door closing behind him hits him in the ass and sends him sprawling against the arm chair to his right with a quiet yelp.

The man he had just made a fool out of himself over turns around, his own expressive, thick eyebrows raising in mild surprise at Stiles’ figure slumped over the furniture. At the sight of the pensive gaze and eyebrows, he immediately makes the connection that this beefy, sweat-sheened man was siblings with the girl now unwrapping a stick of gum at the front desk. _Fucking eyebrows_. 

“Hi,” Stiles squeaks, straightening himself up after realizing he was bent over the chair about five seconds longer than was probably socially accepted. He puts out a hand, having to swallow back the excessive spit pooling in his mouth. “I, uh, I’m—”

“Mr. Stilinski,” the man speaks, his voice absolutely different from what Stiles had expected but almost so much _better_ than what Stiles had expected to come out of this guy’s mouth.

“Stiles,” he corrects immediately, the tips of his ears going pink as their hands connect in a firm shake. The man pulls his arm back before the lanky boy could get a feel of the rough palm against his. “You can just call me Stiles.”

The man quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “Hello, Stiles. My name’s Derek.”

Stiles swallows, noticing his watering mouth had done a three-sixty on him and was now completely bone dry. “Ready to get this party started?” he laughs weakly, throwing his arms out to his side once before slapping them back against his thighs in what he hoped was an enthusiastic gesture, but probably looked more like he was having an aneurysm of some sort.

Derek looks unimpressed, just nods once before turning his head slightly to indicate he was speaking to the girl—his sister—at the desk. “Cora, while I’m helping Mr. Stilinski, could you file those…” Stiles stops listening as he just zeroes in on Derek’s jaw, the line and cut of it angling into a chin that he could see had a small dimple, even with the rough stubble covering it. Stiles got the sudden urge to rub his hand over the facial hair and curve of the man’s jaw, but shoves his hand into his front pocket instead and clears his throat. Derek looks back at him just one moment later.

“Follow me,” he tells the younger boy shortly before heading toward a door that was just past the locker room, pushing it open like he was just expecting Stiles to be trailing right behind. 

Which, let’s face it, Stiles was.

They enter a gym, full with maybe about forty people, instructors and students alike. Stiles gapes at some of the people who were there clearly for leisure—example being a dark-skinned man clinging to one of the protruding, curved walls with no harness, using what looked to be every known muscle as he straightened his legs out from the hand and foot grips, suspending his entire body vertically in mid-air while using his upper back strength to stay connected to the wall. After he had been in the air for a few seconds he strains his arms again, teeth gritted, and pulls his legs back so he was once again snug against the curved rock. Then, without any warning or preparation, releases the wall and drops.

“Whoa! Hey—” Stiles begins but immediately stops at the sight before him.

The man falls to what looked to be a three foot thick mat installed before and under the wall, his feet hitting the mat and his body reclining so that his back hit the cushion. His knees were bent and his arms were crossed over his chest—he lay there for a good second to catch his breath before he pops back up to his feet, rubbing his hands together and smiling over at whatever friend he’d brought along with him.

“Nice stance, Boyd!” Derek calls out, the hint of a potentially-large grin bordering those thin lips.

“The hell was that?” Stiles asks immediately, pointing at the area of where what he just watched had happened. Derek releases a little sigh, one that Stiles couldn’t decipher, before heading over to what looked to be a unit of shelves holding shoes and harnesses.

“ _That_ was someone attempting a stunt that he’s been training to do for months,” Derek answers after grabbing a harness from the shelf above him. He turns his gaze on Stiles. “What size shoe do you wear?”

Stiles answers him lamely, still looking over at the man called Boyd. He couldn’t ignore the flush that had come over his chest and collarbone at the sight of the man’s strength and endurance—Stiles was under no illusion that the stunt was an easy one, but damnit was he…he didn’t know what he was feeling, to be honest.

“Here,” Derek speaks, snapping Stiles’ attention back to him. He hands Stiles his own harness and pair of shoes, Stiles taking them in hand before following Derek more into the gym, passing more people climbing or falling or learning—it was like it was fucking raining humans or something. “The shoes are going to be a tight fit. They’re actually a half-size down from what you normally wear, but that’s because you aren’t supposed to have wiggle room. They’re meant for you to be able to keep a firm grip.”

“Okay,” Stiles responds lamely again, searching each face for Scott and Allison. When he does finally spot them, they are with another male instructor—this one having brown curly hair—and were harnessed and standing near a wall that went straight-up. When Scott sees him in return he smiles and lifts a hand to wave. Stiles waves back before looking over at Derek.

Derek raises a brow. “Friends of yours?”

“I actually came with them but was running a bit late,” he admits, sitting down on a bench that Derek gestured at. He pulls the shoes on, immediately noting how fucking _tight_ they were, before velcroing them on. “But I’m all yours until you’re done teaching me the basics. Promise.”

The older man snorts out a short laugh and Stiles couldn’t help but notice he did a lot of “short” things—but the man himself was far from short. He was maybe a good five inches taller than Stiles and had the muscle mass of a fucking God. Stiles averts his gaze as he pulls his legs into the harness, strapping himself in. 

“No, a little tighter,” Derek contradicts, reaching forward and grabbing one of Stiles’ leg straps. He grabs the buckle and pulls the strap, tightening the bind around Stiles’ leg easily. Stiles feels his tongue go as dry as the Sahara desert with the man’s fingers on his thigh and his body bent down to do so. He attempts to stop his sudden shallow breathing and instead nods to what Derek had said, tightening the other leg strap before Derek could touch more of the area too close to… _that_ area. “Good job. All right, let’s head over here."

_Here_ was on top of the giant installed thick mat the other guy had fallen onto. It was large, taking up half of the gym, and was as firm as Stiles expected a mat people continued to casually fall on would be. He bounces on it a couple of times, testing how it felt under his weight, before meeting Derek’s calculating gaze. Per what the shorter boy expected, Derek doesn’t comment on Stiles’ erratic movements.

“This is one of three floors that are in existence,” Derek explains, tapping the electric-blue material with his foot. “We realized putting three inch mats under someone twenty feet up was causing more injuries than safeties, so some arrangements were made. When climbing this side of the gym,” Derek jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the wall behind him, the one that people were falling off of every few seconds, “a harness is not needed since it goes no more than twenty feet up. However, just because the floor is there, it does not mean precautions don’t have to be made. There is a certain way you should jump down _and_ a certain way you should land.”

Stiles watches carefully as Derek turns to his right so Stiles was now looking at his profile, his body crouching down just a bit in the demonstration. “When pushing off from the wall,” he begins, his arms moving up so they were stretched up and out, mimicking how his body would look if he were suspended on a rock wall, “always make sure to try and push off with your body vertically straight so you’re falling down feet first.”

At this angle, Stiles could see the curve and incline of Derek’s biceps and it was so distracting he had to focus on the side of Derek’s neck instead. Which wasn’t much better, Stiles realized. He had _no_ prior idea that thick, ropey veins winding up a column of a neck was a turn-on for him. 

“Always have your feet shoulder width apart when landing—” he then moves his legs to that exact position, “—because even though the installed floor is thick and firm, landing with your feet together will make the mat give and you could roll your ankle.” He then crouches down further so his ass stuck out a bit, causing Stiles’ pulse under his jaw to beat a bit faster and the palms of his hands to sweat more than usual. “Understanding so far?”

Stiles meets Derek’s turned eyes, hoping he wasn’t just caught checking out his rock-climbing instructor’s ass. “Uh,” he moves his tongue around to try and bring moisture back to his mouth, “yeah, yeah. Shoulder width apart. Yeah.”

Derek nods once before going profile once again. “When landing, have your feet touch the ground. Then force yourself to fall backwards to land _on_ your back.” He then demonstrates this as well, jumping up and then down to give the illusion that he’d pushed off a wall, his feet connecting with the floor for maybe a millisecond before he falls back fluidly, his back hitting the surface of the mat with a soft _thud_. He breathes in once before continuing his explanation. “When landing on your back, always have your hands tucked against your chest or crossed over it, since your first instinct will be to put your arms out behind you to catch your fall. Doing that will result in a broken arm or wrist. Always have them here.” He moves his arms over one another over his sternum until they made an X, Stiles nodding along to remind Derek he was listening. “Last but not least, make sure to let your head fall back as well once your back hits the mat. Don’t try to force it to stay up or tense the muscles in your shoulders—that’ll just give you whiplash. Let your head touch the mat as well.” Derek stands and demonstrates all the steps of falling once again, from jumping to falling back to letting his head hit the floor. Stiles nods along the whole time, feeling his stomach clench every time Derek’s calf muscles tensed and strained to jump. God fucking damnit.

“Now let me see you do it.”

Stiles felt his entire body go rigid at that. “Like, off the wall?”

Derek gives his first, genuine laugh at that, his hands finding their place on his hips as his head tips back a little bit. “Of course not. Do what I did and jump up and mimic the fall. I promise, you won’t hurt yourself.” He gives a small smile as he finishes laughing, Stiles’ stomach clenching again.

“Right,” the younger boy murmurs, gulping down some air. The idea of jumping and falling on his ass in front of Derek seemed like the most humiliating thing and he suddenly didn’t want to do this anymore.

But, he knew backing out and saying he didn’t want to rock climb at all would make him look like an even _bigger_ pussy than just falling on his ass, so he crouches minimally like Derek had. He jumps up and lands briefly before forcing his figure to fall, his arms curled against his rib cage. His spine makes contact with the mat and he opens his eyes to see Derek giving him an encouraging nod above him. 

“Nice job,” he compliments and Stiles immediately felt the tiny praise square in the heart. “ _Now_ it’s time to do it off the wall.”

“ _What?_ ”

Derek rolls his eyes before moving over toward the wall that seemed least intimidating, leaning against it with his hand straight out and his palm pressed against the concrete. “You’re only gonna go about four feet off the ground, just so you can get the hang of jumping off without being connected to the auto-belay.” Stiles gives him a look at that last word and Derek rolls his eyes again, which made Stiles even _more_ frustrated. “We’ll talk about that in a second. Put your feet on these two grips,” he nods and taps his finger against two green-colored pegs that were about a foot off the ground, “and jump off exactly like I told you to.”

Stiles swallows and comes forward, noticing how Derek was only about fifteen inches from where he places his feet on the two grips, holding onto two of them above his shoulders as well to keep himself flat against the wall. Then he falls, doing exactly as Derek had said, ending with his head hitting the mat and everything. He grins to himself at the very small success.

“Excellent,” Derek nods before pointing to two more grips, these colored red and one foot higher. “Now these. You’re doing well.”

Stiles repeats it all over again, this time two feet above the mat, before sitting up and wiping his hands off on his jeans. “This is doesn’t seem too bad,” he comments as he rubs a hand back through his hair awkwardly. 

“It is when you get higher than twenty-four inches,” Derek notes, tapping on two grips that were _two_ feet higher, these ones colored blue. “And now for the four-footers.” He waits as Stiles climbs up to said grips, Stiles clinging to wall as he peeks over his shoulder at the ground. Why is it that when you climb something, the ground seems so much further away than it really was? For fuck’s sake he was four feet off the ground, a good two feet shorter than his own height, and his vision was suddenly going a little blurry.

But, like before, the idea of chickening out in front of Derek seemed like the most awful thing in the world. So he takes a deep breath and pushes off from the wall, immediately losing the majority of his confidence and just flailing about until his back hits the mat with a louder _thud_ than seemed acceptable for safety.

“Stiles!”

Derek had said his name. Shit. He just realized Derek hadn’t really addressed him by his name since they first shook hands and he then realized right afterwards how much he liked to hear it come out of Derek’s mouth. But then he was groaning, sitting up, and Derek fell to his knees beside him. “Fuck,” he moans out, shaking his head as he props his body up with one arm.

“Fuck is right,” Derek bites out a chuckle, an arm reaching out to curl a hand around Stiles’ waist as the clumsy boy gets to his feet roughly. “It’s like you forgot everything I just told you all because you were upgraded two feet.” Derek can’t help but laugh again, shaking his head. “But it’s fine. We’ll just start from the one-footer and see if you don’t almost bust a ball this time.”

“I didn’t almost bust a ball!” Stiles immediately retaliates, on his feet once again and struggling to gain his composure with Derek’s hand still at the narrowest part of his torso, probably there to hold him upright. “I did make a complete ass out of myself, but I promise you the boys are still intact.”

Derek shakes his head, amusement still present in his eyes. “Let’s be careful this time, shall we?”

Stiles nods and allows Derek to check over his back to make sure nothing was strained ( _fuck, those fingers are firm and fuck those hands are warm and fuck he can feel Derek’s breath on his neck and FUCK_ ) before returning to the lesson of falling. He repeats the two previous falls from one and two feet with as much success as the first time he’d done them and once he gets to the four-footer, he pushes off the wall without thinking and lands perfectly. 

“See? Not that hard,” Derek tells him as Stiles gets to his feet. “Now, obviously, this wall is optional. You don’t have to climb it since there is no chord to deposit you back to the floor in one piece, and we have the rule that you don’t climb higher than where you are comfortable falling from.” 

Derek then nods his head over to the opposite side of the gym, where Stiles could see Scott and Allison harnessed with chords clipped to the front of their belts, the two of them climbing side by side up the wall, laughing and giggling about God-knows-what. Stiles rolls his eyes but follows Derek over to an open part of the wall, stopping in front of the chord clipped to a hook drilled into the concrete.

“Auto-belays,” Derek says proudly, patting the hook as if he were patting the fur of a dog. “The rock climbing most people prefer. Simple enough—hook the clip to the red loop at the front of your harness—” At that, Derek reaches forward and tugs at said loop right above Stiles’ crotch with a crooked pointer finger, making Stiles entire lower body twitch. Including his cock. And suddenly, Stiles really wanted to be climbing the wall, up and away from Derek, his backside visible since his front side was starting to stir and rise and _shit_ pull it together, Stilinski. “—and pull on the chord to make sure it’s strong and steady. Then climb.” He removes his finger from the red loop above Stiles’ pants zipper and the owner of said zipper releases a shudder of relief.

“Is that all?” Stiles asks warily, looking up the wall ahead of him, cringing at the height. If he thought four feet was bad, being all the way up there was going to give him one of his famous panic attacks.

Derek nods. “I’ll leave you to it, I guess. The only thing assuring me you won’t fall and break something is that this means you’re strapped in and you’re only responsibility is to make sure you stay facing the wall when descending to the ground.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps and triceps and every other kind of ‘eps’ pushing out. Stiles was very glad Derek had decided to wear a white sleeveless shirt today. “Any more questions?”

Stiles feels his heart pound louder and faster and sloppier—shit, this meant the lesson was over and Stiles was free to climb and Derek could leave and go back to doing whatever it is he was doing before this. And he didn’t want that to happen, nope, wanted to have Derek there for a reason he couldn’t explain and felt weird that he couldn’t explain it. Instead, he just shakes his head with a lump in his chest.

“Nope, I think I’m all good and ready,” he answers with a wry smile, reaching out for the clip of the auto-belay. 

Derek nods, patting Stiles’ shoulder as he passes by him. Stiles feels the warmth of his palm and the ease of his shoulders at the touch instantly, his heart getting brassier in his ears. “Good luck,” Derek tells him before walking away from Stiles, disappearing into some door by the water fountains.

He stares after the instructor for a split second before looking up at the expanse of the rock wall before him. He clips the auto-belay to the red loop on his harness before tugging at the chord.

“Hey!” He looks to his left as Allison lands beside him, her hair a little windblown and her smile and eyes bright. He grins, immediately feeling the infectious energy Allison was always radiating. She pulls him into a hug, a bit awkwardly since they were both clipped to a chord hanging above them, and gives him a chaste, friendly kiss on the cheek. “What took you so long to get here?”

Scott lands beside her just then and Stiles gives him a knowing glare. “Scott didn’t tell me this place’s name and also got a number on the zip code wrong. Thanks, dude.”

His best friend just laughs, reaching out to tug on Allison’s hair playfully, before looking over at Stiles’ narrowed eyes. “Dude, chill. I doubt you were that upset when you landed the instructor you did. I could see you checking out his arms from here, man. You aren’t _that_ discreet.”

Stiles immediately kicks at Scott’s legs, making the other boy dodge him quickly without even trying. Stiles _really_ needed to get more coordinated and faster so Scott stopped unintentionally making him look like a fucking wimp. 

“Let’s just climb this shit, all right?” Stiles bites out before grabbing hold of the grips in front of him. He tucks his foot against one of the biggest yellow ones and finally pushes himself up to start climbing.

—

Rock climbing really wasn’t all that bad.

Okay, not that Stiles was great at it since about every other time he was on the wall he would lose his grip and go sliding back toward the ground, but at least he had the auto-belay there rather than just jumping and hoping he fell on his back like you’re supposed to do with the other wall. 

He, Allison, and Scott had stayed on the side where you used the harness for the first two and a half hours they were there. Sometimes they would race to see who would get to the top, others they would switch off walls and see who could make it to the top faster by timing each other. It was ridiculous and fun and they were laughing and talking and Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this good of a time with the two of them since school had gotten in their way the past year. So far this summer was turning out to be a good one and as Stiles was halfway up on the third-easiest wall in the joint, he realized it was going to be even better than anticipated.

He was just about to look down since he sometimes couldn’t resist the urge to see how far up he was when he caught the sight of unbelievable back muscles and the swell of an ass so _fine_ that Stiles felt his right hand slip from his grip before he quickly grabs back on. 

It was Derek.

He had changed within the past couple of hours and was now wearing _no shirt_ and shorts that weren’t loose in any way and were kind of tight against everything and Stiles felt like he was going to start panting like a fucking dog or something because _holy shit what the fuck_.

And he couldn’t help but follow Derek’s figure as he jumps up onto the installed mat, his legs hopping up and down on the three-foot thick floor a few times like Stiles had the first time he had been on it. Stiles swallows as Derek starts to stretch out, his arms over his head and his legs strained out in front of him and Stiles had to have been up there for two minutes, just staring, perched up on the wall. He didn’t even notice he’d been stationery until he hears a voice calling at him from below.

“Stiles!” Scott yells up at him. This causes Derek to turn and look in his direction as he was stretching out one of his quads and Stiles immediately whips his head around to not be caught staring. However, like all the other fantastic things that happen to him, the force of his fast movement throws his equilibrium off and he starts moving, sliding down the wall, his chord twisting so his body is bent at an odd angle as he bobs back to the ground. He lands on his butt rather than his feet, getting the breath knocked out of him for a quick second. But it wasn’t like he’d fallen fast or from a great distance so no one, not even Derek, moved to go help him. And said man just turned back to his stretching regime. 

“What the hell were you doing, just staying up there?” Allison asks worriedly, crouched down next to Stiles as she helps him unclip the auto-belay rope from his harness. He shakes his head, sniffling in contempt as he struggles to his feet. “You looked like you were afraid to come down.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles mumbles, rubbing at his lower back where a crick had appeared from banging his body around all over the place today. He looks over at his friends. “Where are your guys’ harnesses?”

Scott nods toward the shelving. “We thought we’d finish for the day. You down to go get pizza?”

Stiles nods, using every ounce of self-control he possessed (which wasn’t a whole lot, mind you) to _not_ look over at Derek. Nope. Definitely not trying to look. At all. 

“Yeah, pizza sounds fine.” He bites his tongue when he almost adds on that they should stay a bit longer. If they wanted to go, they should go. “Let me get this off and get a drink. I’ll meet you guys there in fifteen?”

Allison smiles, her dimples making their infamous appearance as she hooks an arm in Scott’s. “Don’t get lost this time, okay?” It was obviously teasing but Stiles still frowns as they turn away.

He walks toward the shelving where they kept the shoes and harnesses as they exit the gym, Stiles’ outer radar warning him over and over and over that shirtless Derek was only twenty feet away from. He manages to not listen to his hyperactive brain and starts to loosen the harness, pushing it down his legs and stepping out of it. He throws it onto the “Used” shelf before going over to one of the benches and sitting down to start taking off his shoes.

And, without really thinking about it, he just kind of _did it_ , Stiles glances up just in time to see Derek bounce off the thick floor and onto the wall where harnesses and auto-belays weren’t needed, his trapezius’ and deltoids flexing so nice and tight that Stiles fingers fumble over the Velcro straps on his shoes. His jaw hangs open in what he assumed was a very unattractive expression.

Derek doesn’t hesitate as he begins climbing up the slanted wall, his back angled towards the floor since the wall was tilted at practically a fifty degree angle in what was obviously a direct challenge to whoever chose to climb it. Stiles stayed put, mesmerized at the way Derek went from grip to grip so easily, almost gracefully—his back rippling, his arms contracting with each grasp, and sorry but his _ass_ clenching each time he hitched a foot up to climb higher. Stiles felt no shame as he openly gaped and stared and practically _harassed_ Derek with his eyes. 

It wasn’t until the older man made it to the top, about twenty feet in the air that he takes one large deep breath and pushes off from the wall. He falls for about two seconds, his arms out at shoulder height as if he were attempting to fly, before he hits the mat with his feet and falls on his back expertly like he’d fucking invented the technique.

Which he probably did. Stiles wouldn’t put it past him.

The male instructor that had been helping Scott and Allison, the brown curly-haired one, claps and hoots from where he was off to the side and Derek just shakes his head as he pushes the guy back with his arm playfully. 

_Holy shit._

And it was then, in that moment, that Stiles decided he was going to do what Derek just did. One day, he was going to climb up that slanted wall, suspended twenty feet above the ground, and shove away from it back to the ground like it was no big deal.

Stiles ignores the voice telling him in his brain he was just doing it to impress Derek because _no_ that’s not the only reason and okay maybe it was one of the reasons but the not the _biggest_ reason because it looked pretty fucking legit for someone to be able to do that and Stiles knew that he needed _something_ to do this summer other than call Scott every five minutes or beat a level he’s already beaten on Halo or lay on his bed with a bottle of lube and his hand. 

Seeing Derek and maybe, hopefully, one day impressing him was just a bonus.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to drop a comment! I'd love encouragement to try and finish this.


End file.
